


Kleptomania and Forty-Nine

by orphan_account



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kleptomania, M/M, Thief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He steals for the rush, for the feeling, for the satisfaction of a job well done. Simply put it, Eduardo is a kleptomaniac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kleptomania and Forty-Nine

49\. It was wallet 49. He looked inside. “ _Puta merda_!” Holy shit indeed.

\----

Eduardo Saverin had been stealing all his life. It started in Brazil, when his younger self wanted nothing more than his fathers’ acceptance. He was around ten when his childish brain thought it was a good idea to start making his own money. The same childish brain thought it was a good idea to make this money in any way possible. If he were making money, his father would be proud, right? So, let the stealing begin.

He got caught the first couple of times, but Eduardo was fast. Well, faster than the American tourists he stole from. He noticed that they had the most money stuffed in their fat wallets. And soon he had perfected the art of stealing. 

This continued on for some time. He would steal, bring home around 100 reais, and show it to his father. Eduardo would tell him he worked hard to get the money, and his father would nod, not really interested. Nodding was the most acceptance Eduardo had ever felt. He never told his father that he stole the money, but his father never asked.

\---

But that was then, and this is now. Eduardo lives an honest life in New York. Completely honest. He won 300,000 dollars betting on horse racing. And he has no idea how half of the horses died the next day. A completely honest life. He’s currently unemployed, yet calls himself an entrepreneur. Now where has he heard that excuse from before?

Despite being an entrepreneur, Eduardo is wealthy. When his father passed away, he got the money. Lots of money. So he steals for the rush, for the feeling, for the satisfaction of a job well done. Simply put it, Eduardo is a kleptomaniac. 

The definition of kleptomania according to the New Oxford American Dictionary is “ _A recurrent urge to steal, typically without regard for need or profit_ ”. Wikipedia defines it as “ _An irresistible urge to steal items of trivial value_ ”. Eduardo dislikes the Wikipedia definition. He also dislikes their claim “ _Kleptomaniacs may not even be aware that they have committed the theft_ ”. Eduardo is very aware of what he is doing.

And so, when playing Farmville and stalking pretty ladies and dapper gentlemen on Facebook gets boring, as it always does, Eduardo likes to stroll the streets of New York. He always wears a suit. For some reason, people don’t accuse men in suits for stealing. Maybe because they look like they have money. Maybe because they have access to lawyers. Maybe because Eduardo in a suit is enough to turn a straight man gay. Accusing someone of theft is not a good pick up line for a date.

And so, Eduardo strolls the streets of New York. He will see someone with big, loose pockets. Someone who looks like they have something in their pockets. Someone who looks like they could always buy a new watch. Someone who looks like they are being burdened of all their expensive possessions. And he will relieve them of their burdens. 

Any large city is known for thieves. So no one suspects that the “ _Beware of pickpocket_ ” signs are actually a trick for the pickpocket. Eduardo has placed a few of these signs up himself on his favourite streets. When a mark sees the sign, he will check if his valuable possession is still there. This tells Eduardo exactly where they keep it.

If it’s a wallet, like it usually is, Eduardo will simply bump into the victim. While he is disorientated, he will snatch the wallet and calmly walk on. It’s careful not to run, since it will cause a scene. When waiting in a crowd, Eduardo will pretend to read a magazine with one hand, while grabbing wallets with his empty hand. Pretending to hold a jacket with his empty hands also helps, since he looks like he has his hands full.

Eduardo doesn’t like to pick pocket women; he is a gentleman of New York after all. But sometimes they’re just so venerable, it’s hard not to. Especially handbags. He will “ accidentally” drop something in front of the mark, or spill something on her. She will drop her handbag to help, and Eduardo will just take it in the commotion.

Of course he has many other techniques, but a thief never reveals all his secrets. At the end of the day, Eduardo will sit on his settee and go over what he has harvested from the concrete fields of New York. He counts all the money, and throws the rest in a pile. He’s only interested in money. He doesn’t care for credit cards, jewellery, or any other nonsense the people keep in their bags or pockets. Only the money. And once he’s harvested the fruits, he will throw the carcasses back into the concrete fields. Usually the concrete fields that have Police Stations near them. Eduardo hopes that there are some good people out there, some which will find a wallet or handbag with no money in it and return it to the police station to go home to its rightful owner. If there’s not, then it’s not Eduardo’s’ problem. That’s how he saw it. He never directly returned what he stole. Until one day.

Eduardo was walking to the nearest convenient store. He wasn’t in the mood for stealing that day, and he wasn’t even wearing his business suit. But he was in the mood for some pie. Eduardo loves pie. But on his way to the nearest store, he saw a man. Well, he sees lots of men, and steals from a couple of them too. But this man looked like he needed to get somewhere fast, as if the quick walk from where he was to where he was going was living hell; a complete nuisance that he would shoot in the face if it bothered him again. The man really didn’t want to be where he currently was. Eduardo was going to ignore the bushy haired man, but the man tripped over his own flip-flops, causing something large to fall out of his pocket unnoticed. The man continued to walk with his _"Screw this place, I don’t want to be here_ ” pattern, and turned the corner. The wallet sat in the open.

Leaving something like that in the street is something a normal person would have done. But the urge, the pull, the need to pick it up caused Eduardo to run. And so he ran. The wallet sat on the ground, and Eduardo hovered over it. He couldn’t see his own face, but he’s sure he’s got a huge smirk that some would describe as evil. He picked up the wallet. Eduardo likes to count the amount of wallets he collects without stealing. In his entire life, there have only been 49. It was wallet 49. He looked inside. “ _Puta merda_!” Holy shit indeed.

The amount of money inside could make a hobo eat like a king for a good two months. Why anybody would keep that amount of money in a wallet is beyond Eduardo. But it was in there, so all he could do was accept it. He bought his pie with his newly found money, and went home to his wonderful settee to inspect it further. 

There was something different about the wallet that made Eduardo want to keep it. Or maybe it was the man it belonged to. He like the way he walked. But Eduardo did something he promised he would never do, he looked at all the credit cards and other nonsense that resided inside the dark blue billfold. There were lots of credit cards. Eduardo threw them aside. A driver’s licence. Finally, a proper look at the mans face. Curly hair, blue eyes, fairly attractive. He didn’t look at the details, but saw that his name was Mark. He smiled. He’s always loved the name Mark. If he were the person to have friends, he’d like him to be called Mark. Was that something he regularly thinks, or was that the first time he’s ever thought that? 

The idea quickly disintegrated from his mind when he saw a business card. Maybe now he can figure out why the man dreaded the outside so much. It was blue. With Facebook clearly written in the familiar white Lucida Grande font. So the mystery man was a nerd. He didn’t dread the outside, he loathed it. Eduardo flipped the card. And then gasped. And then dropped it. And then picked it back up again. And then gasped some more. Three words were printed on the front.  
 _  
I’m CEO, Bitch._


End file.
